Star Wars: The Vod Squad Saga
by Rhysati Ynr
Summary: You've all heard that the main Star Wars saga is based around Skywalker and yadda yadda, but what about the legacy of us clones? Join me and my squad, Vod squadron, and see our stories for yourself.
1. Meeting the crew

Star Wars:

The Vod Squad Saga

Written by Rhysati Ynr

**From the private journals of "Vod Squadron":**

**RC-1139 "Orar", RC-6372 "Adenn", RC-7283 "Aran"**

**RC-1548 "Besbe" and RC-4376 "Cuyan"**

**On board the private vessel "Tracinya", on the way back to Triple Zero**

**Adenn:** Hey, _vode_, what do you think about making a...journal...of our fantastic exploits as the Republic's finest shiny boys?

[_Voice in background_ You've got to be kidding me, right?

**Adenn: **Does it sound like I'm joking? I'm completely serious. We could like...publish it on the Holonet. Come on, Sir, you know that we can't let the Jedi take all the credit for this war.

[_Voice identified as Cuyan, RC-4376_ You know what...I quite like the sound of that. It could be fun, a legacy kinda thing. At least it would be something to give _Kal'buir_ if anything happens to us.

**Adenn: **Can you ever think on the non-morbid side of things, _ner'vod_?

**Cuyan: **[_slight edge to his voice_ Do you think you can ever stop doing things that'll lead you to eating hospital food?

**Aran: **Alright, alright. _Udessii_, lads. We'll satisfy his curiosity, if it'll shut him up. _Bes'ika_, can you get the holocam set up to this holorecorder? It'd be nice if they could see our faces too.

**Adenn: **See, at least he's getting into -

**Cuyan**: Shut up, _Ad'ika_.

[_Voice identified as Besbe, RC-1548_ No problem, Sir. _Ad'ika_, bring that 'recorder over here a second. [_Shuffling sound as the recorder is moved_ Hold on...do you realise that this has been recording?

**Adenn: **[_innocent tone to his voice_ Really? I thought that light meant that it was powering up.

**Cuyan: **Now can I help him experience hospital food, Sir?

**Aran: **Believe me, I'd like to, but the paper work that we'd incur wouldn't be worth the trouble.

**Besbe: **[_slight pinging sound, and an image pops up into the air, shaded in blue. The helmet of a Republic Commando is taking up most of the screen_ All right, it's up and running. [_a hand is waved in front of the screen_ And recording well. I've rigged it so that you can see what's being recorded.

[_new voice identified as Orar, RC-1139_ What would we ever do without you, _Bes'ika_?

**Adenn: **[_the screen turns to reveal the grinning face of a Republic Commando, a single strand of bleached blonde hair identifying him as RC-6372, Adenn_ Well, let's get this started. Hi, people of the Holonet. I'm RC-6372, but you can call me Adenn. And this is the rest of my squad -

**Aran: **Who's squad?

**Adenn:** ...The rest of _the _squad, RC-1139 "_Orar_", RC-7283 "_Aran_", RC-1548 "_Besbe_" and RC-4376 "_Cuyan_". We're better known as Vod squadron, and despite what those Delta boys might tell you, we're the hotshots of the Republic, not them.

**Orar: **[_snorts in laughter_ I'd like to see you tell that to Boss, _Ad'ika_.

**Adenn: **Give me his com number and I'll do it right now -

**Aran: **You're wasting time, _di'kut_. These people don't want to hear you arguing.

**Adenn: **[_mumbles_ This hasn't even been published yet and he's concerned about the audience. [_screen is lifted up in the air to reveal a spacious crew cabin, with five Republic commandos, one ARC, a Jedi padawan and a Republic Intelligence officer relaxing. Screen turns to the helmeted clone that connected the camera to the recorder_ Come on, _Bes'ika_, take that bucket off. Let the people see your beautiful face.

**Besbe: **Cuyan, I give you permission to wipe the smile off of this _di'kut's_ face once we're back at home. [_waves at the camera regardless with a gloved hand_

**Adenn: **Yeah, good point, Vod. Don't want to break the camera. [_camera turns to reveal an identical face to Adenn, but this clone is seated slightly away from them, coiling a reel of sticky det-tape around his fingers_ And this is our resident dare devil, Cuyan. Tell 'em about the incident at Geonosis, _ner'vod_.

**Cuyan: **[_looks directly at the screen, his dark coloured eyes flashing in annoyance in the bright lights of the room_ Hi, I'm Cuyan, "the great survivor". I'm about to test whether Adenn can do the same thing, so _Kal'buir_ _really_ can count this as a farewell message from RC-6372.

**Adenn: **Ouch...what's clogging up your afterburners[_suppressed laugh from out of the camera view_ Don't worry, Ma'am. It's your go soon. [_camera spins once more to see a clone with a hulking great sniper rifle in his lap, a rag in his right hand as he cleans out the scope that he has detached from it_ Orar, say hello to the nice fan girls!

**Orar: **[_has the expression of a man that has just swallowed Bantha fodder_ Uhhh...hi...

[_screen turns around to show the face of RC-6372 again_ Don't worry, ladies, he's normally much more talkative than this. If you're interested, here's his com-number, O -

**Orar: **Would you like to see the business end of my Deece, brother?

[_unidentified female voice speaks up_ Come on, boys, give it a rest. He can't help it if he's excited.

**Orar: **[_looks to someone off screen_ Ma'am, you don't know what it's like to put up with this_ utreekov_ every single day!

**Aran: **[_gives derisive snort_ At least there's someone who supports you around here, _Ad'ika_.

Adenn[_grins in the direction of the voice_ Well, she should do. Don't worry, _cyar'ika_, I'll come to you in a minute. [_camera spins slowly to face the final commando in the room, the Vod leader, RC-7283 "Aran"_ And this is the most serious and depressing clone that you'll ever meet, Aran...

**Aran: **I think you're right, he doesn't want to stay alive, does he?

**Adenn: **...but he's also the most caring _di'kut_ that you'll ever meet. Ain't that right, _ner'vode_?

[_chorus of seven voices, male and female_ Right!

**Aran:** [_clearly trying to suppress tears as his battle humour kicks in_ Well, someone has to keep an eye on you lot for _Kal'buir_.

**Adenn: **[_Grinning_ Yeah and we appreciate it, Sir. Believe me. [_camera whirls to the remaining people in the room, a clone in ARC trooper armour who is sitting on a couch with his arm around the shoulders of a blonde haired Jedi padawan who is resting her head against his chest. Seated to her left is another woman who has light brown, shoulder length hair and amber/green eyes_ Sarge! Say something for the holocam.

**Thrix: **[_leans forehead against the Jedi Padawan's_ I can't believe that I'm still working with this lot.

**Lena:** [_looking up into his face_ Isn't that a good thing? You met me through them.

**Thrix: **[_chuckles_ Yeah, I suppose that has some advantages. Apart from the constant nagging. [_receives a slap to the face, but still laughs_

**Adenn: **[_sighing as his voice appears off screen_ These two are always like this. The Jedi is Lena Arano, probably one of the very few Jedi who _isn't_ claiming that the wall is all her effort and no one else's.

**Thrix:** I beg to differ. Meji, Jetspeed, Kendari and Farlander don't do that either.

**Adenn:** [_laughs_ Oh, I see you neglected to mention Darklighter? Wise choice, _ner'vod_. Wise choice. [_camera zooms in a little on the ARC's face, revealing a bolt shaped scar on his cheek_ And that there is ARC Trooper Sergeant 036. Mr Bombastic, as Lena likes to call him.

**Lena:** [_grinning playfully and making the ARC blush_ That and other things.

**Adenn:** [_shocked tone to his voice_ Please, Ma'am. There might be families watching this[_turns screen a little to the woman with light brown hair_ And this is Republic Intelligence Officer Raikia Rayth. Wanna say something to our adoring fans, sweetheart?

**Raikia:** [_looks straight into camera_ These are some of the bravest men you'll ever meet. Treat 'em with respect.

**Adenn: **Nicely put, nicely put. [_a new bleeping sound arises, causing them all to groan_ Looks like we're home.

**Lena:** [_rises from chair and heads out of shot_ Back to the war again. Blast it. I'll drop you off at the barracks. I'm sure you'd like to see your Sergeant again.

**Aran: **[_tone of voice is excited_ It's been too long. We _need_ to see him.

**Adenn:** [_turns screen around to face him as everyone leaves the room_ Well, that's all of us. Keep your eyes peeled for stories of our escapades for the Republic on the Holonet. This is _re't_ from the boys of Vod squadron, but not a total farewell. _Oya, mando_!

[_voice off screen_ _Ad'ika_, you coming, _ner'vod_?

**Adenn:** Yes sir[_screen flickers_

**END TRANSMISSION**


	2. Episode 1: Missing in Action

Star Wars:  
Missing In Action

Written by Rachel E Hayler

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

Another cerulean beam burst out from behind the crag of rocks that Republic Commando 7283 and his brothers, ripping the head casing of an advancing battle droid into a thousand shards. This was followed by a triumphant whoop over the com-link from trooper 6372, "36!"

7283 found himself smiling despite the situation. 6372 still had a way of brightening up even the most dismal of circumstances. "Adenn, _ner'vod_, don't tell me that you've been keeping count?"

"Of course," 6372, or known as "Adenn" within the squad, replied in a shout. Their _buy'ce_, helmets, were designed to block out all harsh noises, but when their were explosions rattling so close to you that you could feel the ground quake through your boots and feel the shrapnel pepper your armour plates, then even an internal com-link was going to get disrupted. "Almost beaten my training record."

"Less chat and more shrapnel, ner'vode," interjected a more sincere voice into the conversation. Though all clones were supposed to be identical, there was a slightly lower pitch to this brother's voice that proved this fact was not exactly true. It was the voice of RC-1139, or known as "Orar" in private. "I can't concentrate when there's no one watching my six."

"Alright, alright, ner'vod. Udessii," Adenn replied with an oddly cheerful tone to his words as he dropped down flat onto his stomach and tracked their resident sniper through the scope of his Deece, a DC-17 blaster rifle. "Just keep moving. I've got you covered."

7283 tried very hard to keep his attention on the battle ahead of him, levelling his own Deece and battering a moving droideka with a hail of blaster bolts. The rolling monstrosity didn't slow in the slightest, but it did stop, deploy and offer and assault of its own. The clone commando hit the dirt, cradling his blaster like a small child as the destroyer droid's bolts ripped into the air above him. He had no need to call for assistance, as fire from just over to his left rippled into the droid's shield, distracting it from blasting his head off. As the droideka dropped its shield to try around and eliminate this new threat - it couldn't do so with the shield fully operational - a bright green bolt rained down from the sky and split it in two.

Orar was the Mando'a name for thunder, and after hearing the explosive _crack_ as the droid disintegrated from the lightning like bolt, it was clear how this brother had earned his name.

A cracking shot he may be, but a new burst of fear rippled through 7283's stomach as the nearby droids turned and hailed fire up the cliff face that Orar had been using as his prime sniping post. He knew that his brother would be alright, but the returning fire was getting more and more accurate as the battle progressed. And to make things worse, this was their first battle. Well, real life battle anyway, and it happened to be true for the rest of his brothers as well.

Although he and his squad mates were more intensely trained than the average clone trooper, bred to be the best as their training sergeant had often said - the lovable drunk Sergeant Kal Skirata - that knowledge didn't stop the fear for his brothers burning in his guts. 7283 had become the informal leader of his squadron, _Vod_ squadron as Kal'buir had dubbed them, at the very start of this mission. _Vod, _translated from Mando'a to Basic meant "comrade", and there was no better way to describe the relationship between himself and the other members of his squad.

7283 had inherited the name of "Aran", which meant "guard" in Basic, when translated from Mando'a. He was proud to hold such a name because he was known for doing whatever it took to get his brothers safely out of danger. He had certainly proved that on that eventful, live fire exercise where the final member of the squadron, RC-4376, had been locked down tight in a bunker by the enemy. It had taken a lot of creative and explosive thinking by Aran to get his brother out.

RC-4376 had since been known as Cuyan, or "survivor" in Basic, and he was the squad's kit and demolitions man.

And right now they needed some of the luck that he had had back then when rescuing his brother. Their current battle terrain was unlike anything else that they had endured during their training. The open expanses of deep orange desert that formed most of the Geonosian landscape around them were complete death traps. Not just from the oncoming droids, oh no, but the lethal cannons of the capital ships that were hastily retreating up into the smoke streaked sky. There was the occasional jutting up piece of rock that he, Adenn and Cuyan were now hunkered down behind that provided them with some adequate cover from the hailing blaster fire. They had even been fortunate enough to find a towering cliff that Orar could snipe from.

To his military trained eye, the landscape had some great combat oriented features...all to the disadvantage of the Republic army. The dark orange sand made his shiny white armour stick out like a beacon amongst the barren landscape, not matter how many blackened blaster points and dust plastered the armour. He still felt as conspicuous as a krayt dragon in a herd of nerfs. At least the armour could take a fairly decent known against it and still remain functioning correctly. Another marvel of Katarn engineering that he had begun to appreciate greatly over the past couple of hours.

The only advantage that they had found was Orar's sniping post, and even that had its drawbacks because he had to move after every shot to avoid detection.

So Aran did have plenty to fear, but instead of letting it use him, _he_ was going to use _it_. Fear kept the adrenaline pumping, which kept him alive and alert even when fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. Bred to be the best, and that meant staying on top of his game.

"How's Orar holding up, Adenn?" the clone commando asked as he flipped over to the grenade attachment on his Deece and took aim at the group of droids that were the biggest threat to his brother, prepped to fire.

"Pretty well considering the _nadala_ fire that's going up at him," Adenn replied, though half of his words were cut off by the sound of the grenade that he had launched. More droids exploded and rained a mess of metal fragments down on their heads. He could hear it clanging down his armour plates as he tried to shake them off.

Even after the explosion, the remaining droids still kept firing at Orar whilst now directing their attention to them too. If they weren't careful, they'd run out of ammo pretty soon.

"Save your grenades, gentlemen. I've got an idea," the voice of Cuyan spoke over their helmet com-links. "Orar, do you still have some of that det tape that I gave to you?"

"Some, but not a lot." The sniper's heavy breathing could be heard easily over the com-link, showing the exertion that he was going through to stay alive. "And I don't like the...sound of that. What do you have in mind, ner'vod?"

"A little excavation work. String the tape along the top of the cliff and get clear. I'll tell you when to blow the charge." As Aran looked over to his left he could see that Cuyan was squatting on his haunches, moving his hands apart as if measuring a distance. "Sir, if you-"

"Don't even think about it," 7283 cut him off sharply, knowing exactly what his brother had in mind. "That's a stupid idea, and you know it."

"Sir, it's the best plan that we've got," the demolitions man protested as he pointed a gloved hand futilely towards the cliff face. "It'll take two seconds for your grenades to hit the bottom of the cliff, plenty of time for me to distract the droids as you give that cliff a new face."

"It's too risky, Cuy'ika," Adenn agreed with his "leader". That was surprising in itself, seeing as he was usually the foolhardy one. "Even_ I_ wouldn't try it."

"If it helps Orar and causes a dent into some Seperatist pockets, then I'm all for it." Cuyan had now flopped down onto his stomach as fire from yet another droideka punched into the air above his head, fumbling with a line of super sticky det tape as he wrapped it around a grenade that was resting in his outstretched palm. He checked that the grenade was deactivated and then loaded it back into his Deeces grenade launcher chute. "Aim two grenades at the base of the cliff and fire on my signal - not before or after otherwise _I_ will be the one needing a new face."

"Come on, think straight! We'll call in for some air assistance and be on our way." The _Vod _leader couldn't let his brother do something foolish. He was determined to return home with everyone intact.

"And how many other squads do you think have had that idea?" The det man was back up in a crouch again and scanning the top of the cliff through the scope of his Deece. "No, I've got to do this. Orar, sitrep?"

"Det tape is...down...and I'm...retreating...now...Progress is...slow...though. I've...take a shot to the...leg." The pain was clearly audible in Orar's voice which caused a shared exhale of guilt from his brothers to follow shortly afterwards.

"Good man. Keep it going, brother. Help is on its way." Cuyan looked over to Aran and Adenn and tossed them a quick salute, his voice quaking with fear a little. "I...I'll see you soon, Sir."

And before anyone could protest, the clone commando had leapt up to his feet and was sprinting towards the base of the cliff. Aran barely held his fire against the onslaught of droids as their attention gripped the new target. His stomach doubled up in knots as the shots missed his brother by feet, then inches, then centimetres. The det man returned fire with a droids blaster that he had acquired from somewhere. He wasn't really hitting anything, but that was the point. All he needed to do was for them to stay in place and remain focused on him, and then the rock slide would deal out his revenge.

He was about half way along the base of the cliff face when a shot caught him in the upper thigh, in a gap between his armour plates. He tripped and rolled head over heels, smacking hard against the rocks before he came to a stop lying vulnerably flat on his stomach. He shook his helmet and Aran could see him aiming his Deece to a rocky outcrop on top of the cliff.

"Fire now!" Cuyan yelled, and his brothers had to obey.

There was a tremendous _whump_ as the two grenades exploded at the base of the cliff and a further ear-shattering blast as the det tape at the top of the cliff imploded. 7283 was knocked back by the sudden pressure wave of escaped gravitation potential energy and landed unceremoniously on his _shebs_. He scrambled back up to his feet a moment later, sudden urgency willing him to check that Cuyan was alright.

The plateau that they had once been fighting on didn't exist anymore. There was a steep slope of brown and flecked orange rock that had completely flattened the droids that had once been attacking them. There was also no sign of Cuyan.

"Cuyan, do you read me?" Aran pressed a gloved hand to the side of his helmet as if it would aid him in hearing his brother in any way. "RC-4376, can you hear me, Brother?"

"Just...bout...sir," Came a very muffled and distant voice over the com-link, like a whisper in his ear. He had never been so relieved to hear his brother's voice. "This...armour...can take...quite...hit."

Across to his right, Adenn had righted himself and was smearing a thick layer of dust off of his visor. "Cuy'ika, you're a gutsy little di'kut. Not to mention completely dini'la. Are you alright?"

"Taken...hits to...leg, shoulder, arm and...helmet." His list of damage was pretty extensive. "Other...perfectly...alive."

_Cuyan indeed_, Aran thought and then motioned to Adenn. "Alright, vod'ika. Sit tight. We'll meet you on the other side." He paused to and had to ask. "And...how the osik did you survive that explosion?"

"Fired...det to...top...cliff. Disabled one...anyway. Climbed up...d...tape...that was stuck to it."

"Creative and explosive thinking at it's finest. Good work. We'll see you soon." The two commandoes bound up to their feet and broke into a run to get to the other side of the cliff.

The trek around the base of the cliff was strenuous. Even though they were ducked down behind the rocks and outcroppings that surrounded a narrow trench at the cliff's edge as they tried to reach the other side, fire from yet more oncoming droids sprayed out to get them. They were osikla everywhere! Aran's helmet beeped suddenly, and a cursed formed up on his lips. Someone - something has got a lock on him.

_Keep moving. Just keep moving._

"Adenn, something's got a lock on me. You got any dets left?" He called forwards to the clone crawling forwards ahead of him.

"Fresh out, Sir." Not the answer that he had wanted to hear. "POA?"

POA - plan of action. Osik, they needed one of those now - and quickly. Most of their ordinance was on top of the cliff with Cuyan - which rendered them useless in this circumstance. The problem with lock-ons was that due to a droid's supreme programming, it meant that their fire was even more accurate - almost like a starfighter's targeting system. They stood no chance!

The trouble with droids, however, was that they fought alone and not as part of a traat'aliit - a squad - like clone commandoes had been trained to do from birth.

"Traat'aliit gar besbe'trayc," one wise man once said - their training sergeant to be exact - and that was certainly running true today. _The squad is your weapon_.

His brothers were his advantage - and the droids disadvantage.

A shot sprang off of his back plate then and pitched him forwards onto his stomach, emphasising the point about a droid's accurate fire. His armour absorbed most of the hit, but he knew that he would have a mighty bruise for weeks afterwards.

"You alright, Sir?" He looked up from his sprawled out position to see that Adenn had stopped and was looking back at him, a concerned tone to his voice over the com-link.

"'Lek, brother. Just testing out Katarn engineering. Get moving before this really turns shabla." Aran pushed himself up into a crouch after yelling k'atini - suck it up - to himself and barely missed a shot that could have sliced into his leg.

He was glad that he was wearing a helmet so that his brother could not see the colour that had drained from his face. Too many close calls in one day were starting to take a toll on his confidence.

A second beep then arrived over the com-link, and Adenn cursed more poetically than his "leader" had. "N'osik! Lock-on!"

Wayii, now they really were kriffed. 7283 felt like stripping off his armour and giving the droids an easier target to shoot. He was osiked anyway, whatever way he looked at it. But no - he had to keep going. He was Aran - the guard - and he had to get his brothers through this. The squad was his life, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them.

Suddenly, he heard something drop down behind him. He spun in less than a hundredth of a second; Deece raised and level as his finger dropped down into the trigger-guard, prepped to fire. But when he saw the burning glow of a blue shaft of pure laser energy, he froze out of both awe and shock.

It was a Jedi Knight - a real Jedi! He'd never seen one up this close before, but this one was clearly not looking his best right now. Dirt plastered whatever areas of his skin that were visible from beneath the Jedi's light tan coloured tunic, and even that had clearly seen better days. The man's midnight short hair was now flecked with orange in places where the dusty rock had nestled upon him, but his vivid blue eyes were flashing with an emotion that the clone identified as...amusement. But why would someone be cheerful in the middle of a battle?

"Good to know some of us are still alert," the Jedi flicked his gaze between the Vod leader and his brother. "What are your names?"

An automatic response burst out of Aran, "Republic commando 7-"

The Jedi raised a hand, interrupting him. "Not your numbers. Your names. I know that you have names."

7283 was even more confused than ever. The Kaminoans had not asked about that sort of thing, ever. "Uhh...I'm Aran and that's Adenn."

"And I'm Jedi Knight Tom Darklighter." Master Darklighter gestured to the pair of them. "There is a transport on the way to come and collect you. The droids are in full retreat. Round up the rest of your squad and get to whatever RV point you arranged."

Aran nodded and slowly muttered, "Yes, Sir."

The Jedi grinned and tossed them a salute before bounding over the rocks and into the fray all around them. A simple hand gesture got Adenn moving again and the two soldiers scrambled across the remaining distance to the edge of the cliff.

The Vod leader turned and looked back over his shoulder to see how the Jedi was doing. There was a mass of droids surging upon one point, and at its center was a single beam of cerulean ambience, whipping around in patterns that were so quick that the clone could barely see the individual strokes of the blade. His training sergeant had told them about how Jedi tended to fight, but he had never told them how..._beautiful_ it could be. A bullet of deadly light was playing out before him, and he was completely captivated by it.

That was when the blue light winked out.

"Osi'kyr!" Aran cursed. "The Jedi is down! We've got to help him."

Adenn's voice came over the com-link and his statement stopped the Republic Commando as he started to advance, "It's too late, Sir. My sensors aren't picking up any life forms over there."

7283 slowly lowered his Deece, staring out at the surge of droids enclosing where the Jedi had once been. The teroch - pitiless - droids were still firing - making sure that the powerful being decided not to bother getting up again. The clone commando felt at once disgusted and sickened, and barely quelled an urge to gain some vengeance for the Jedi Knight. He may only have known the man for less than a minute, but any being that would so willingly give up their life for someone else demanded his full respect. And that was something that those skragging bucket heads weren't showing him.

A comment sprang up from his conscience and he barely registered muttering under his breath, "May the Force be with you, Jedi."

"Sir?" A deeply pitched voice asked over the com-link and Aran turned to see their resident sniper limping towards them.

Adenn walked up to the clone and gave his brother a back-slapping embrace. "Good to see you alive, brother. Are you alright?"

"No injuries that will keep me out of action." Orar looked between the two of them, and then asked, "Where is Cuy'ika?"

That got Vod leader's full attention. "He's not with you?"

"No, Sir." The sniper shook his head. "I haven't heard from him since he told me to lay the det-tape."

"Well, where is -" The clones were all flattened against the ground as a _massive_ explosion ripped into the air above them. The huge shock wave sent shards of the cliff tumbling down around them, but none were close enough to hit them.

Once the tremors had quietened, Aran opened his eyes and found himself to be looking at a dust-smothered visor. Growling in annoyance, he wiped the dust away and felt his imminent anger boil up into turmoil. With a timid hand, he reached forward and plucked a single white shard from some rock rubble ahead of him. He did not need to turn it over to know where it had come from.

Upon the white piece of plastoid where the numbers and letters of "RC-4376" scrawled across it in orange paint.

Cuyan...

The roaring engines halted him. He could not remember being hauled to his feet by his brothers, nor setting foot upon the LAAT/i gunship as it soared off into the laser-ridden sky. That was when he became conscious of the grip of his squad mates on his shoulders as if they were trying to support themselves, not just him.

This couldn't be happening...

A regular clone trooper approached them with a datapad in hand as he asked, "Numbers."

Once again, the response was automatic from Aran, "RCs 7283, 6372 and 1139."

The clone nodded his pure white helmet and looked down at the shard in Aran's hand, then began to make inputs into the datapad. "And RC-4376, killed in -"

"No!" The Vod leader growled, gripping the clone roughly by his left shoulder and thrusting his free, gauntleted fist under the chin of the man's helmet. They both knew about the razor sharp blade he had in the knuckle plate of it. "No. Missing in action. He's not dead!"

The clone nodded slowly as Aran released him and moved quickly away.

The Vod brothers sunk to the floor at that point, silence encasing them until they were interrupted by words from a nearby ARC trooper.

"Ni su'cuyi,

Gar kyr'adyc

Ni partayli

Gar darasuum."

"_I'm still alive,_

_But you are dead_

_I remember you_

_So you are eternal."_

Aran closed his fingers around the white shard and felt his chest droop down against his chest bone. Cuyan couldn't be gone. He was just missing...missing in action...


	3. Episode 2: Crowd Control

Star Wars:

Crowd Control

Written by Rhysati Ynr

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

Kark to the "main highlight" of the upcoming event, RC-6372 felt as if he and his brothers were the premier attraction at this show. His helmet's HUD - heads up display - picked up yet another flash just off to his left. Tilting his head towards it, he tossed the Duros couple a crisp yet sheepish salute, causing the pair of them to break into their own conversation. He was beginning to become desperate in wanting to hear what people were saying about him as they meandered past.

To say that he was feeling uncomfortable would be the same as saying that a Krayt dragon was not _that_ dangerous. Both would be a great understatement, and right now he felt that he would have more chance of surviving a battle against one of those beasts from Tatooine than coming out of his current situation alive. He and his brothers had been tasked with "public guard duty" at the latest musical extravaganza being held in the _Two Worlds_ entertainment dome on Coruscant. Basically, they were crowd control, calming down drunken adults or excitable fan girls who tried to jump the ticket line. They were complete over-kill, four Republic Commandoes and even an Alpha ARC trooper. The local security was perfectly adequate to manage the crowds here, seeing as he had never even heard of the group playing here this evening.

Of course, the Republic didn't see this. The Chancellor had personally requested that _Vod_ squadron be those of the clones in attendance at the concert to keep the peace. How the leader of the Senate even had time to consider an event that wasn't galactically threatening was even beyond _his_ thinking. Orders were orders and whether he liked them or not, he had to carry them out.

A stumbling human female over to his right caught his attention, and a simple eye movement connected him to the private com-link that he had shared with his brothers. "Heads up. Disorderly, human female approaching at 9 o'clock. The glit sniffer is all yours, Sarge."

"I copy," a voice replied over the 'link to him, this one tainted with a slight tang of a Corellian accent. "I'm dealing. You can help Aran out with the fan girls that want to see him without his armour on, Ad'ika."

Adenn, RC-6372, cringed and made a point of flipping his DC-17 blaster rifle onto a maximum power stun setting. Yet again, he had ended up with the bad end of the deal. Drunks or people high on spice were fairly simple to deal with, as had been seen since the moment they had got here, but excitable fan girls were one hundred times more lethal.

Especially if they had never seen a clone before.

Banishing away a sudden feeling of unease, he gently shouldered his way through the crowd to where he could see the top of Aran's gleaming, white helmet. The situation was worse than the Sergeant had elaborated. There were five of them in total, two scantily clad Twi'leks, two humans and a rather dumpy, rounded Sullustan - but he could not tell what the gender of the last one was. One human, a red haired one and the green Twi'lek were almost hanging off of his brother's arms as the remaining human took a holograph of the trio. The Sullustan was prowling around him, poking him and stroking his armour plates, causing him to squirm around in discomfort slightly.

Adenn spoke over the com-link to the stressed clone as he began to approach them, "I've never understood why women like a man in uniform. Want a hand, ner'vod?"

"If it's not too much trouble," RC-7283's reply was deeply sarcastic, and his tone sounded very, very bitter.

6372 grinned wildly behind his helmet. "Easy, Sir, udessii. I'm coming." He finally arrived at the struggling clone's side and brandished his Deece, more for protection than effect. He looked down upon the women who had not yet seen him. "Can we help you, ladies?"

The two Twi'leks and the Sullustan all huddled together, suddenly taking note of the new, strapping young soldier before them. "Removing that armour would be a start," one of the Twi'leks muttered, causing them all to break into a fit of giggles.

Adenn sighed, but luckily it wasn't audible from outside of his helmet. He reached out with an armoured, gloved hand and gently guided the remaining female away from Aran. "Not right now ladies. We're very busy." He pointed towards the ever expanding queue. "You'd better go and get your tickets. They're selling out fast."

The red haired female sighed and then walked up to Aran, before kissing him on the side of the helmet, leaving a bright red lip mark. She smiled and whispered something to him, and then turned around to walk arm in arm away with her friends, giggling and chatting.

6372 turned towards his superior officer, trying to hold back a fit of laughter. He managed to for about a solid 30 seconds, then his face screwed up into a perfectly stupid expression and he was almost bent over double sniggering.

Aran had a gloved hand raised to the mark on his helmet, desperately trying to cover it up as if it were a skin blemish. His free hand gestured futilely towards the amused commando. "Give me your canteen, di'kut, or I'll tell those dalae that you're willing to take up their offer!"

Adenn managed to find his canteen amid his laughter, handing it to the marked man. "What did she say to you, Sir?"

7283 removed his helmet, his tanned skin tickled pink by a blush as it rose upon his cheeks. "To watch out, because she'll be seeing me again later."

His brother smirked and slapped a hand heavily down on Lieutenant Aran's shoulder. "Then prepare yourself, ner'vod, because you might not have my good luck or charm to get you out of the next encounter."

As he poured water onto the mark and began to rub the lipstick mark away, the _Vod_ leaders retort was cut off by a burst of light from the open aired dome and a heavy, pulsing drum beat. It rippled into the air and sent the crowd around them into a whooping frenzy. The band was clearly ready to begin the concert.

Over the com-link, the ARCs Corellian tinted voice sounded relieved, "Nice work, Ner'vode. We're almost clear to go. Orar, Bes'ika, sit rep."

"RC-1548 here, Sarge. Orar is a little busy right now. He's been asked to help check the tickets at the entrance. I'm just making sure that everyone stays in an orderly line."

Adenn felt a small smile touch his face. RC-1548 was the latest member of the squad, brought in after his whole unit had been lost on Geonosis to replace their missing brother, RC-4376 or "Cuyan". This new brothers name was "Besbe", which translated from Mando'a into Basic meant "kit". Appropriate name for his role within the squad, seeing as he was the new demolitions and technology man. He was also quite a favourite of the ARC trooper that they were working with, due to their shared passion for explosives. And so this was how he had earned a nick name of "Bes'ika", or little Besbe, which he didn't mind because it sounded like "bazooka" a bit.

"Alright, I'll go and give him a hand," the ARC replied. "Ad'ika, Aran, help Bes'ika out."

"As ordered, Sarge." The clone commando elbowed the once again helmeted _Vod_ leader in the side and the pair of them doubled back on themselves towards the now reasonably well-behaved crowd.

Aran gestured that he was going to head towards the entrance and that his brother should head back to the end of the massive queue.

Without so much as a nod, Adenn turned and started to head down the way that he had been instructed. With each step, his eyes crossed different face upon face upon face, hundreds of sentient species from more worlds than he could comprehend. It was truly outstanding. It had been a standard month since the loss at Geonosis, and yet in all that time he had never seen as many people in one gathering as he was at this moment right now.

A slight shift in one man's posture suddenly caught his attention and so he turned slowly to find himself looking upon a short, shaking man who brought a whole new meaning to the word 'suspicious'. He was trying futilely to hide his face behind the dark green hood he was wearing as he tried to slip past the clone as the entry line shuffled forwards, but the clone commando stuck out an arm as he flicked on his external speakers.

"Could you step aside for a moment, Sir?" He asked, almost grinning at the booming and commanding voice his helmet speakers produced.

"W...why?" The hooded man's voice quaked under extreme nervousness.

"Just a routine check, Sir, nothing to worry about." 6372 clamped his barricading hand down on his shoulder, and gently guided the shifty human to a spot 30 yards away. Once he had gotten the man's attention, he held out a hand expectantly, palm upwards. "Identification, please."

The human hesitated for a moment, but the clone altered his Deece slightly in his general direction, and the man began to fumble around for his identicard. "C...certainly...if I can just find it..."

The Republic Commando squared his shoulders and waited in case the man decided to pull any kind of stunt. Though he may be short, the cloak that he was wearing disguised the possible bulk of his form, so he wasn't prepared to take any chances. Size matters not, as he had learned from the likes of the famous green Jedi, Master Yoda, and also from his training sergeant. Kal'buir may be small in stature, but he had the same raw power as his "sons", perhaps even more so. That made him the perfect kind of warrior, unnoticed until the very last second, when it was already too late.

And so, he wasn't surprised when the man's hand returned to visible view, sporting a hand held blaster. Almost anticipating the movement, he thrust the muzzle of his DC-17 blaster rifle up under the attacker's chin, snapping his head back as he stumbled backwards. Smashing his elbow down against the assailant's hand caused the gun to slip out of his hand and pitch him forward; allowing the clone commando to slam the butt of his Deece down against the man's bent back.

Before the unsuccessful attacker could fall flat on his face, Adenn gripped him by the back of his collar, pressing the muzzle of his own blaster against its head, allowing it to kneel before him.

"Name," Adenn demanded, not forming it as a question but a command.

The man managed to reply bitterly, despite the fact that his breath was coming in short rasps, "Obi...Wan...Kenobi."

"Funny, very funny." The Republic Commando pushed his blaster harder against "Kenobi's" temple, causing him to groan. "Come on, name."

"I...I'll give you one word of advice, clone," "Obi-Wan" muttered, grabbing the soldier's interest.

"And what would that be?"

"You're karked," was all that the man said before he went limp in the clone's arms, his eyes rolling upwards in his skull.

"Osi'kyr!" Adenn sunk to his knees, lowering the limp body to the floor. He swept back a section of the man's cloak and felt a groan form up upon his lips. Poison dart to the arm. Fierfek, this was _not_ looking good. He raised two fingers up to the side of his helmet and flicked onto the internal com-link that he and his brothers shared, "Sarge, we've got a situation over here."

There was no reply.

"Sarge?" He called once more, only to receive a round of static in his ears. A flick of his eyes adjusted the com-link volume level, lowering it down enough that he could hear his own sigh. Someone - or something - was jamming his com-link. Ok...now this _really_ did look bad.

Looking up and away from the fallen man, he suddenly realised that he was all alone. The queue had disappeared, and so had all of his brothers. _Gartal, need to find some cover_, he thought as he leapt up to his feet and charged towards a nearby holoadvertisement board. Ducking down behind it, he set his helmet to track movement within a 20 meter radius around him, and then began to think his situation through.

"No comms, no ner'vode, no civvies, what the blazes is going on around here?" He whispered, finding the sound of his own voice comforting as he sounded his thoughts aloud, as if his brothers were on the other end of the com listening. "Alright, first step is to check out for enemy sentries, in case this is an attack."

Dropping down flat on his stomach, he shuffled further into the murky depth of the billboard's shadow, cursing whoever had decided to make clone armour dazzling white. If he was discovered now then fierfek knows what knows what would happen to his brothers - wherever they were - not to mention the civvies in the dome too. He fumbled around on his utility belt and pulled his electrobinoculars free, bringing them back in level with his vision a moment later. After adjusting the focus upon them, he zoomed in towards the base of the dome, then the roof.

As far as he could see, there were no sentries posted to watch things from the outside. That made him want to rule out the idea that an ambush upon the _Two Worlds _dome was imminent, but his non-functioning com told him not to be so hasty. Lowering his binoculars once again, he dropped his chin down on top of them, propping his helmet up as he thought. Who the kriff would think of a music concert as a good example for a terrorist attack? Die hard haters of the band? Enemies? Rivals? People with something against the Republic? He had absolutely no idea, but whatever it was; he knew he had to proceed with caution.

And right now, the only thing that mattered was the safety of his brothers and the crowd, wherever they had disappeared to.

"Surveillance, check," he muttered to himself as he put his electrobinoculars back upon his utility belt. Pushing himself up into a crouch, he found himself almost smiling as he got ready to run. "Now it's time to knock and say "hello"."

He dashed across the plaza, darting left and right randomly to make himself a harder target to shoot, in case he had missed some lookouts posted on the _Worlds_ roof. He reached the main doors without incident and almost wished that there had been some sentries posted on guard. It would have helped to settle the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Unsurprisingly, the heavy, metal doors were slammed firmly shut; and as far as a well placed kick at the door mechanism could tell, locked tightly.

Only one quiet option left then.

"Bes'ika, those hacking lessons that you gave me better work," he hissed as he withdrew a vibroblade from within a knife sheath on his right boot and set to work upon melting the hinges of the hatch that housed the manual over-ride controls for the doors. After what felt like a life-time of cutting, he finally managed to melt away the last hinge and carefully and quietly lower the access grate down onto the floor. To his dismay, it was not a mass of wires that would have made this oh so much easier to slice, but a keypad that was asking for a password. Osik. He fumbled around on his utility belt once again after discarding the now useless vibroblade and withdrew his datapad and a datajack. He slung his Deece over his shoulder to give him room to work, and then used the latter to connect the former to the keypad, he began to work through the process that Besbe had showed him to determine passwords. It had only been thirty seconds when a security breach alarm began to wail.

"Osik!" Adenn yelped, yanking the datajack out of the keypad. "Ne'johaa! Shhh!"

Another alarm blazed, but this time it was from within his helmet: his proximity alarm. There were hostiles emerging on the other side of the door.

"Osi'kyr!" He shoved his datapad away and hastily removed some det-tape. "Well, they know that I'm coming, so I might as well give them a few surprises!"

He slapped one end of the tape against the top of the doors, then ran it down the seam between them and secured it at the bottom, then quickly back-pedalled away to a safe distance. Withdrawing his Deece once again, he aimed at the top of the tape and fired a single shot. The heat from the laser blast combined with the explosive charges caused a cataclysmic chain reaction that blew a giant hole in the center of the doors.

Cries of pain and surprise followed, and green darts of laser energy flew out of the hole, but that didn't stop Adenn. He sprinted forward and then dive rolled through the gap, coming up in a crouch with his Deece raised to cut a man down with an azure shot. He wasn't even thinking, just working on a mixture of training, instinct and adrenaline. As the world began to come into focus again, he heard a slight tap against his armoured back, and so spun around to see a metal knife lying on the ground at his feet. Tracking the line of where it landed outwards, he managed to locate the woman that had thrown it at him slumped against the wall with shrapnel wound to her chest.

The look in her eyes told him that she knew she was going to die. He swallowed hard and picked the knife up; replacing it in the sheath his vibroblade had come from. He flicked on his external audio and saluted her, trying to seem confident, "Thanks, I'll keep this."

The woman just groaned in pain, her gaze dropping to his blaster as if pleading for him to end her pain. His finger hesitated on the trigger, and he felt himself pause. _I'm Adenn, I'm merciless. I can't hang around and aid the enemy. She chose to attack us, so this is the price she pays_.

He rose to his feet, turning his back on her and jogging down the rest of the corridor, making sure that he kept close to the wall so that it could provide him with a little cover. Everything was quiet as he crept along, well, that was until a round of laser fire splattered against the wall about a centimetre away from his face. Instinctively, he flinched back, but his training got him to raise his Deece and fire off a wild counter shot in the direction that the attack had come from. He knew that he hadn't hit anything, but at least the assailant would keep his or her head down for the moment.

Now being more cautious, he dropped down into a crouch and edged forwards. He was actually in a state of shock as he moved, not because he had come so close to dying, but because the attacker had been such an accurate shot. Wayii, it had been his reflexes alone that had saved him. Two more shots stopped this trail of thought, one hitting the ground just in front of his feet and the second chipping the wall above his head. This time, he forced himself not to duck or shy away, and he managed to return fire. A moment later a smoking body tumbled down a flight of steps ahead.

These were helpful attackers, now he knew where he had to go next.

He could hear the sound of laser fire from the floor above, which he desperately began to hope, was something to do with his brothers. If there was returning fire, then he knew he wasn't alone and more importantly that they were alright.

Smirking slightly, he stayed low and headed towards the base of the steps, his Deece tracking the crates at the end of the corridor which finished about 40 paces from his current position. His proximity alarm was still bleeping, but he couldn't tell whether there were people close by, or just up the stairs ahead of him. He would have changed the radius of his proximity alarm, but that would take seconds of concentration that he couldn't afford right now. It was due to his deciding against this that allowed him to be prepared when the attacker came at him like a rocket.

Out of the corner of his HUD he saw a crate rise mysteriously into the air, then come shooting towards him. Pivoting on his right foot spun him around just in time to thrust the butt of his Deece high above his head. As the crate reached him, it was pierced by the gun end, flimsy wooden boxing smashing with ease. Small, metallic objects poured onto the floor in a puddle around his feet, but he had no time to comprehend them as a vibro-sword came hacking down towards him at something that resembled terminal velocity. He spun his blaster rifle laterally and held it with two hands, one at either end of the gun as he caught the blow from the blade up high, then side-stepped and allowed it to slide down the handgrip and safely away from him.

"Just copy the Jedi," he muttered to himself, picturing the Jedi that he and Aran had met briefly on Geonosis, and then mimicking the moves he thought a weapon of that calibre should make.

The masked assailant growled something in a language that he couldn't translate and came at him once again, but more cautiously and skilfully this time. The first blow came in low, which the clone commando simply leapt over and the second at his mid-rift. This one he dodged by catching the attack on the center of his Deece. He knew that he had to deal with the attacker quickly, because he was quickly running out of rifle to use as a melee weapon. Though the body glove under his armour was fireproof, it did not stop the melted fragments of his blaster from scorching the material and burning his finger tips.

Enough! Now it was time for action!

He stepped speedily in very close to his opponent after knocking its sword aside and thumped a heavy left hook up into the chin piece of the mask that it was wearing. The terrorist lurched backwards, choking upon the plastoid that was now trapping its jaw open and blocking it from breathing. It growled once more in annoyance and tore the mask off of its head, revealing the face and brain tails of the green Twi'lek that had been flirting with Aran earlier on.

Adenn ignored the sense of shock that threatened to overwhelm him - the fact that he had just thumped a woman in the face - and charged at her, dropping his Deece to the floor with a clatter in preparation to tackle her to the ground. To give her credit, the alien woman made a good effort to try and stop him, but the bulk of his armour and general weight advantage allowed him to come out as the victor. They both crashed to the floor struggling, the Republic Commando trying desperately to pin her arms to the floor as she tried to wriggle free of his hold.

Eventually, she managed to get a leg free from underneath him and coiled it around one of his, then jerked it erratically in the direction that it wasn't supposed to go. Cursing in sudden pain, he accidentally relinquished his grip upon her arms and couldn't stop her as she managed to roll him over, so that _she _was now on top of _him_. She then leant backwards and brought her legs up in front of her so that she could kick him repeatedly under the chin. He snarled in frustration more than in pain and barely raised two gloved hands to grip her ankles and roughly toss her off of him.

The Twi'lek landed on her side a short distance away, and he could hear the snapping of bones breaking even above the crashes and clatters of the boxes that she smashed into. He was almost pleased when she collapsed down flat on her stomach and decided not to get up again.

"Good call, utyc dalyc," The Republic Commando muttered as he pushed himself up into a crouch and yanked his helmet off of his head.

He instantly regretted the action. Upon using the T-shaped visor upon it as a mirror, he could see the ripe swelling of a bruise blossoming around his right eye and a large welt across his jaw line. Both of those were going to smart in the morning. He was about to gingerly put the bucket back on when a sudden scream caused him to whirl around and see the body of the other Twi'lek flop down the flight of stairs, followed by one of his armourless brothers. No ordinary being would have been able to tell this one apart from the rest of the clone army, but the bolt like scar just under his left eye identified him as the ARC trooper that had accompanied them.

The Alpha ARC took one last look at the Twi'lek - to check that she was dead and not out of remorse - then flicked his attention to the clone commando and asked, "Osi'kyr! What happened to you?"

Adenn just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at him, nudging his Twi'lek with the toe of his boot and causing her to groan. "She couldn't get enough of me. What happened to your armour, Sarge?"

"I dumped it," The ARC replied casually to a shocked RC as if it was a regular occurrence. He began to take ammo packs and a blaster from his dead girl. "They've put some kind of metal fibres on our beskar'gam that they've been using to track us. You'll need to ditch yours too, Ad'ika."

6372 nodded and quickly removed his plates of armour. So now it was starting to make sense. The red haired woman who had kissed Aran on the side of the helmet must have had the metal filings upon the lipstick that she had been wearing, hence how he had been tracked. Adenn himself had gotten into a fight with a man in the queue, who could have placed the fibres upon his armour in a whole mixture of ways. Wayii, no wonder why the terrorists had been such accurate shots, seeing as they knew his exact position wherever he went. Question was, however, how had they tricked the ARC into getting tagged?

"How did they get you, Sir?" he asked whilst collecting only the essentials that he would need from his armour.

"The chief of security here shook my hand to say thanks for our help," his tone of voice was direly dispassionate as he spoke. "Looks like we don't have any friends around here."

Adenn rolled his eyes. This was just getting better and better. "How about Orar, Aran or Bes'ika?"

ARC Trooper 036 shrugged his shoulders as he rose back to his feet and looked back up the stairs. "No idea. You're the first ally that I've found."

Adenn felt fear begin to nibble at the fringes of his mind, but he forced himself to push it away. Fear was good for keeping adrenaline pumping, but right now it would just cloud his judgement. "What's our next objective?"

036, Thrix, indicated the com-link that he had hooked over his ear, clearly taken from the Twi'lek that he had shot. "We take out whatever aruetti is running this whole show."

"Yes'sir! Lead the way!" The clone commando followed him quickly up the flight of steps and onto a metal grated platform that lay open to the elements in the open-rooved, _Two Worlds _dome. He guessed that they were upon the back-stage area of the main performance stage, heading back towards the storage rooms, dressing rooms and prop rooms dedicated to the purpose of "performance".

Well, now they were going to show these aruetti just the kind of "performance" that they specialised in. As far as he could see, there were no guards on duty, but he had since learned that these terrorists could virtually hide anywhere. Well, at least they were now as blind as he was. With a quick gesture from the Sergeant, they both crept along the platform and headed towards a doorway on his side of the gangway.

Once they had reached it, he stood to the left-hand side of the door as the ARC removed a piece of wire from within a bandolier of ammo across his chest and began to work on the door mechanism at the center of it.

That was when the air around them erupted into blaster fire.

As they both ducked into the alcove that the door formed, the clone commando felt the weight of a blaster pressed into the palm of his hand, followed by a shout. "Watch my six!"

"Kih'parjai, just get that blasted door open!"

Adenn took the ARCs stolen blaster in one hand and his own hold out one in the other, and then peeked out from their hidey hole. He snapped his head back to safety a split second later, his military trained eye remembering roughly where each of the hostiles were. There were six of them in total, not normally a problem, but this time he was without armour. Virtually naked. He couldn't take the reckless approach that he preferred to use, because somehow he doubted that he was more blaster resistant than his specially made beskar'gam - armour.

He aimed a line of fire up at the _World's _roof, where two of the hostiles were training a sniper rifle down on their position. One shot caromed off of the shiney metal of the sniper gun and rebounded straight up into the face of one of the men. The man flopped down to the ground, his friend forgetting about the clones and dropping down to aid his fallen comrade. He then turned his attention back to the other four who were rushing towards them from further up the walkway. He ducked behind the doorframe as fire sprayed against the wall where he had previously been.

"For osik's sake, give me that," the ARC exclaimed and yanked the blaster from his hands. With his spare one, the Republic Commando could see that the Alpha was arming a thermal detonator.

Adenn's eyes widened, but he didn't try to stop him. "You do realise that there may be other explosives around here, right?"

"That's the least of your concerns right now. Get in that door." Thrix thumbed the stud on top of the det and then elbowed the door open and yanked his brother inside.

There was a tremendous bang, followed by the sound of creaking metal as the walkway that they had been on split in two, and then collapsed under its own weight.

6372 blew out a sigh of relief and then couldn't resist a comment, "Looks like they won't be -"

He never got to finish his witty remark as the ARC clamped a hand over his mouth and was gesturing for him to hush. He nodded as he over-heard the clone's stolen com-link buzz with static, then leant down close so that he could hear what was being said.

"What in the twin suns of Tatooine just happened?" A female voice shrieked into the com. There was a barely audible reply, and then she spoke more forcefully once again, "I don't care! I want those clone's heads brought to me immediately!"

The Sergeant grinned darkly at Adenn and then activated the com-link. "Just sit back and relax, Sweetheart. We're coming for yours."

"What? Who is this?" The voice exclaimed haughtily.

"Alpha ARC Trooper Sergeant 036 and the Republic Commandoes of Vod Squadron," Thrix replied, chuckling, "But no need for introductions now. We're on our way up to meet with you face to face."

"Argh!" The woman growled. "You insolent little bug! When I get my hands on you..."

"Your Twi'lek companions already had their chance, cyar'ika, and you should see where it led them. See you _real_ soon." He cut her off, then closed the channel and gestured to his brother. "Come on, I think we're almost at the main stage."

Adenn nodded and followed him into the darkened room. As far as he could tell from the obscure shadows that were creeping up the walls, they were in some kind of props and costume storage room. The murky shadows prevented him from seeing much past the ends of his arms, well that was until he tripped over or bounded off of something solid. Flurries of curses left his lips as he longed for his helmet lamp and knew that there was going to be virtually no part of his body that wasn't bruised by the time that morning broke on Coruscant.

Eventually, they found the exit and yet another locked door, but this time the ARC Sergeant just blasted the lock, and with the help of his brother they heaved the door open. Light poured into the room as they left it into yet another corridor but this one had wooden doors all the way along it. At its end, there was a pair of large, metal doors that they presumed led to the main stage itself. The clones split off to encompass both sides of the hall, hugging the wall and facing away from each other so that they could watch their sixes. As they continued their journey towards the wooden doors, they took it in turns to boot the doors open on their respective sides of the corridor; either dealing with mercenaries or yelling "clear" before they moved on.

About five doors away from the end, Adenn kicked a wooden door open in a shower of splinters and thrust his blaster around the doorframe and then called, "This is RC-6372. Come out with your hands above your head and I won't blast you from here to the Maw."

The reply that he got took him off guard a bit, for it was a mere pain filled whisper, "Ad'ika?"

"Orar?" He quickly re-holstered his blaster and pushed the door open fully to allow light to flood into the room. He couldn't see any sign of his brother, but there were three bodies lying in various positions in the center of the room. "I can't see you, ner'vod. Where are you?"

"Over here," Orar's call sounded from over in the back right-hand corner, next to a very large vanity table. "Do you...have any pain killers with you?"

"'Lek...yes." Adenn hurried over in his brother's direction and almost gasped when he saw the state that he was in. RC-1139, Orar, was slumped against the wall, his face and neck covered in scratches and bruises, signs of a physical fight. He too was out of his armour and just in the black body glove, which had clearly been of no use to prevent the beating that he had taken. Clutching a limp arm against his stomach, he was trying to block something.

Blood.

"Shablu's sake, ner'vod!" 6372 crouched down in front of his injured brother and began to prepare a pain killer injection that he had taken from his utility belt. "Pick a fight with a Rancor again?"

Orar laughed for a moment, then choked and groaned in pain. "Argh...you should see...the other guys." His midnight eyes were scanning his saviour's face. "I...could say the same about...you."

"What? This?" Adenn pointed to the violet mark encircling his eye like an eye patch. "Nah, these are from playing with a girl who liked it rough."

"Sounds fun." 1139 grimaced as the pain killer was jabbed into the area next to his wound, which had now been revealed as a stab wound. "How's the...Sergeant?"

"He's still blowing things up, so I'll say that he's doing fine." His brother retracted the needle and tossed it off to the side, then took out the knife he had acquired and began to cut at the leg material of his body glove. "Have you seen Aran or Bes'ika?"

He nodded and grimaced yet again as the clone before him pressed the material against the wound in his stomach. "They...went to diffuse the...bombs."

Adenn allowed himself a little smile as he could hear the strength returning to his brother's voice. So there were bombs! He looked into his eyes and made his expression as stern as possible. "Rather them than me. Come on, I need you to get up."

The stabbed commando shook his head and made a gesture to shoo him away. "No, leave me here. I'll...only slow you down."

"Hey, don't go all martyr on me, di'kut. I'm not leaving you here," 6372 replied firmly as he took a hold of the wounded clone's arm.

Orar shrugged his grip off, albeit painfully and stiffly. "I'm not, utreekov. Go and deal with these...aruetti...and come back for me."

His brother paused. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, di'kut. Now go!"

With one last look back at him, Adenn jogged back out of the room. The ARC was down at the end of the corridor, obscuring the view of something that he had held up by the throat against the wall in front of him. Finally, one of the terrorists had lived long enough for them to interrogate him! It was only when he was about 20 meters away that he saw a flash of white...dazzling white armour. Fierfek, the Sergeant was threatening a clone, perhaps a member of back-up that had arrived!

He broke into a sprint at that point as 036 let the clone drop down to the floor like a limp toy, then skidded to a halt at his side and gasped, "What the blazes is going on, Sarge?"

"Is Orar alright?" Thrix asked, completely ignoring his question as he looked down at the unconscious clone in disgust.

Adenn slipped into an automatic response, despite being in a state of confusion and shock, "He's not looking good. He's got a stab wound to his stomach. I've given him some pain killers and tried to stop the bleeding, but I didn't have any blood loss agent. I think he's eating stims to try and keep himself awake."

"Perfect, just perfect." The ARC crouched down next to the clone he had pinned and removed a marker from his utility belt, then scrawled a message on the man's armour. Leaning around to look over his shoulder, the Republic Commando could see that the message read "Call a medic as soon as you wake up, di'kut, and our next meeting will be far less painful".

"Sarge, what's going on?" He asked, watching as the ARC trooper removed a single use needle from the clone's medical kit and begin to prep it.

"We're being used as bait," Thrix replied simply, but his tone was so ringing with anger that the RC took an involuntary step backwards. "Te Alor sent us here to watch the crowds, but that wasn't his main agenda. He was using us as bait to lure a terrorist organisation out into the open so that he could take them out. He didn't tell us this, of course, in case we were captured by one of them and interrogated."

Adenn's eyes widened as he watched the clone before him inject the needle into the man's neck. Stims: being used to wake him up a little quicker. "So why did you knock him out?"

"He annoyed me." Thrix turned around and gave his brother a side long glance over his shoulder. "He was part of an advanced group, sent to asses the situation before they hit the dome. So basically, I say that we take the terrorists out now and show those RI boys how it's really done, agreed?"

"Kandosii!" The Republic commando grinned in anticipation and excitement. "POA?"

"Aran and Besbe have already taken care of the bombs, so we have _plenty_ of options open to us." The ARC was holding two thermal detonators in his hands, as if comparing their weights. "I say we have a little fun."

"But what about the civvies?"

"They can get their own detonators." Thrix shoved the sleeping clone's blaster into Adenn's hands, and then gestured to the metal doors. "They'll be expecting me to toss the dets first; so you go first and I'll toss these in after."

"But they'll shoot at me before I can get a shot off at them," 6372 protested, but complied with the order and stood in front of the left door out of the pair.

"Then you need to be a faster shot, Ad'ika." The ARC gave him an encouraging pat on the back and shoved him forwards a little. "Oh, and don't forget to hit the dirt."

"Oya, Mando!" Adenn cheered, mainly to push away his own doubts as he swallowed his fears and booted the door open. The borrowed DC-15 blaster rifle fitted snugly into his hands, and he didn't need to work too hard to raise the weapon and blaze a line of wild fire across the desolate looking stage.

It wasn't silent for long. He was forced to hit the dirt as return bolts raked into the air around him, but they were quickly hushed by the _tink_, _tink_, _tink_ as a thermal detonator rolled onto the floor; then the tremendous _whump_ as it imploded. The make shift cover that had been hastily put up by the enemy had been taken down just as quickly, with storage crates and bodies alike being tossed up into the air before coming to nasty looking landings off the front and back of the stage. A second explosion tore into the air a second later, halting any further attempt at a counter-attack by the terrorists.

Uncovering his head and pushing himself up into a crouch, Adenn shook the implosion daze from out of his mind and eyes and found himself "waking up" to the sound of...thunderous applause. He finally looked up and saw the crowd that had been waiting outside all sitting in their seats, watching them as if they had been putting on some kind of show for them. Blushing wildly and hoping that no one could see him doing so, he rose to his feet and jogged further onto the stage, checking to see if there were any survivors from the quick battle. Thankfully, there weren't any.

"Looks like you beat us to it," came the sound of a slightly irritated voice from behind him, and caused him to whirl around to face the speaker.

It took every ounce of his will power not to be tempted to raise his blaster and fire it into the guts of the woman before him. Her dull grey uniform and credentials that decorated the breast of her uniform depicted her to be a member of the enemy; well the enemy of any clone trooper: Republic Intelligence. He snapped to attention as Thrix appeared at his right hand side and offered her a more casual salute.

She returned the gesture in the same, military crisp style of someone in her line of work, then asked, "ARC Trooper Sergeant 036 and RC-6372, I presume?"

"Yes, Ma'am," The ARC replied with a tone of voice that sounded about as disdainful as hers. Oh yes, the Sergeant didn't get on with Republic Intelligence at all.

She just nodded, not hint of emotion in her expression that showed that she may have been pleased to meet them. "My name is Lieutenant Raikia Rayth, Republic Intelligence. I shall be in charge of conducting your debriefing, along with..." She half turned and gestured, "...Commander Arano."

As if sensing the mention of her name, Adenn could see a young woman turn away from a group of clones that had come up on the stage and begin to approach them. With each step forwards, the girl seemed to get younger and younger. Her face was devoid of any lines or marks that might indicate an older age, except from a line of light coloured freckles that worked across the line of her nose and across her cheeks. Her long, blonde hair had been swept back from her face by a simple headband, making her seem all the more child like. It was only three things that highlighted her true status. Her light blue eyes seemed to have aged far more than their owner, a sheen of emotion that no normal being her age would have experienced. Her current choice of clothing - tan coloured robes - and the cylindrical like object dangling from her belt were even more of a clue: she was a Jedi.

Out of the corner of his eye, Adenn saw Thrix look down at the floor and...blush. Pare...wait...that couldn't be right. He blinked and looked again, but the ARC had brought his head back up and was looking expressionlessly at the approaching Jedi.

The girl stopped before them and saluted them informally, and then turned slightly to Raikia. "Thank you, Officer Rayth, but I can take this from here." She waited until the woman had grudgingly taken the hint to leave them be, then turned back to the clones and grinned up at them. "Don't worry, I hate Republic Intelligence too." She looked at the ARC and extended her hand to him. "Jedi Padawan Lena Arano. No need for introductions though, seeing as I believe we've met before, Captain 036."

"It's actually Sergeant Thrix - I mean - 036, Ma'am." Thrix took her hand and shook it firmly, holding onto it for a little too long before realising he had to let it go.

The Jedi Padawan seemed to ignore the incident. "Sergeant? What happened?"

"The Chancellor didn't appreciate my "explosive antics" on Geonosis." The ARC Trooper Sergeant was almost grinning with pride. "Whilst knocking out a Seperatist communications relay, I accidentally blew out the communications between the GA for a half kilometre."

She laughed slightly, then realised the company that she was in and stopped herself, but couldn't stop a silly grin from remaining on her face. "Well, all of that aside, it's a pleasure to be working with you again." She then turned to the Republic Commando and offered him her hand. "And RC-6372, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Ma'am?" Adenn asked, feeling even more confused when her saw her flinch for a fraction of a second.

"Please, it's Lena. You've clearly proven today that it should be _me_ calling _you_ Sir," she replied as they shook hands. "I believe that you met my master on Geonosis."

The clone's memory flashed, and he had to stop his jaw from going slack with the sudden revelation. "Darklighter? I mean, Master Tomos Darklighter?"

Her light blue eyes flashed painfully but the emotion disappeared as soon as it had arrived. "That would be him. I wanted to thank you for what you and your brother...A...Aran, was it, did to help him."

The gratitude that she felt was portrayed in the tone of her voice, and it actually shocked him, because it was so genuine. No non-clone bar Kal'buir had praised him for what he was doing, let alone thanked him for doing his job. He let her gratification warm him and filter out into a gentle smile on his face. Maybe this was another non-clone that he could begin to trust and even, like?

"N...no problem, Ma...I mean, Lena. I'll be sure to tell him," he replied in kind.

"I'd prefer to tell him myself, but if you wish to, you have my thanks once again." Lena looked past the pair of them, her eyelids drifting half closed as her pupil's glazed over. "Gosh, is one of your squad hurt? Where is he?"

"This way, I'll show you." The ARC jumped at the chance to try and lead the Jedi away to go and find Orar.

Commander Arano nodded in acknowledgement, then saluted to the Republic Commando and walked at the ARC's side as he walked away, deeply immersed in a conversation of some kind.

Adenn watched them leave, then turned and dropped off of the edge of the main stage, going to help out with calming down the civvies and check that they were all right. As he moved from person to person, he received more and more pats on the shoulder of thanks, or children asking him if he could sign their pamphlets. And of course, he fell right into the swing of things. Fan girls themselves may be as annoying as a flit nat, but their attention was totally flattering.

Next time he was asked to do crowd control, he would _definitely_ bring his own pen.


End file.
